The Asset and the Hunter
by Eirian Erisdar
Summary: It was not long before the Mandalorian realised that the current state of affairs were utterly unacceptable. The asset was growing on him. The Mandalorian, baby Yoda, an evening in the desert, and ruminations.


A/N: I watched the Mandalorian and ficced. More life updates and notices below.

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**The Asset and the Hunter**

_Eirian Erisdar_

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It was not long before the Mandalorian realised that the current state of affairs were utterly unacceptable.

The asset was growing on him.

The planet's primary star had long dipped below the horizon and the sky itself a the purplish velvet of aged muja when he settled on the leeward lip of a dune to tend to his arm; picking away at the gash in his shredded upper gauntlet with cauterising tongs that had been designed for marking durasteel was picky work, and he gritted his teeth against the stray sparks that flickered across his skin.

Then a tiny, three-fingered green hand entered his peripheral vision.

The Mandalorian had deactivated the tongs before the thought even properly occurred to him; Not a spark touched the pudgy fingers that reached for the gash in his arm.

The asset's tiny, squished, gremlin-like face was a picture of earnest curiosity - and, if the Mandalorian was reading correctly - sympathy.

His helmet dipped, and he caught up the little thing a moment before those fingers could touch him. The weight between his gloves was feather-light, infinitesimal - fragile but alive, a quick, infant's heartbeat under his palms. Two short steps across cooling sand and the asset was nestled back in its hover-cot, and the space between the Mandalorian's gloves cooled with the air of desert night.

The asset looked up at him, the first stars of the evening glimmering in its wide eyes.

The Mandalorian went back to tending his arm.

A slightest shuffling of worn cloth was all the warning he got before the lightest pressure presented itself along the edge of his ruined upper gauntlet.

He looked up and met the asset's gaze dead on. The asset stared back unblinkingly, unfazed by the severe lines of the Mandalorian's helmet.

The asset made no protest as it was promptly placed back in its cot, nor did it complain except for a deliberate blink when the he keyed shut the cot's covering, shutting away those bright eyes from view.

Then, a dozen steps down the dune with the hum of the hover-cot at his left shoulder, a thought occured to him so intrusively and without warning that the his next stride nearly stuttered in the sand.

He had looked up into the grey sky much as the child beside him had, when his parents shut the durasteel doors to the little alcove, shushing him with tears gathering at the corners of their eyes as behind them the sound of blasterfire and plasma cannons edged ever closer.

He had listened to his parents' last, desperate instructions. Waited, then waited some more, until-

His glove reached out, like a limb alien to him, and keyed open the cot's covering again.

The asset blinked a little at the influx of starlight, sat up straighter, and looked up at him from its cocoon of blankets.

Those _blasted_eyes.

The Mandalorian looked away, and focused on the distant horizon again.

A few quick-keyed commands at his gauntlet and the hover-cot fell back a little at his left shoulder; not quite parallel to him, but a little behind. It was close enough to reach should danger present itself, but also angled the cot beyond the edges of his vision unless he directly turned his head.

There.

Problem solved.

They moved on towards the far-off dawn together, the Mandalorian with his pauldron gleaming in the starlight, and the little hover-pod beside him, a half pace to his side and behind like a planet towed by its star.

**END**

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Hey there. It's been a while. I do have legit reasons for staying away for the better part of a year, though - Since July 1st my life has been 12-14 hour workdays plus a 36-38 hour shift every three to five days. That works out at roughly 90-100 hours a week of work. It's the life of a newly qualified junior doctor.

And my long term followers will know I'm from Hong Kong, where the government and the police have been turning the city into a police state since June, when all we want is greater democracy. The police laid siege to my university four days ago. So between the work life and the pitched battles raging across the city every day, writing has taken somewhat of a back seat.

I wrote this oneshot because this is the first day in over a month I didn't have to set an alarm - where I had a proper day off, and I watched the first two episodes of The Mandalorian and promptly realised that the entire point of the show was the new ManDADlorian and his baby Yoda. It was a lovely diversion.

I do have some of the next chapter of _The Silent Song _written, but given my schedule it's been a challenge completing it. I do give updates on progress on my tumblr, though (eirianerisdar tumblr com). Just replace the spaces with dots.

Thank you as always for reading. Opening my email to see comments and favourites from you even when I'm exhausted in the middle of the night at the hospital makes me happier than I thought possible. Thank you.


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